


A Stocking Stuffer

by Nemirovitch



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Christmas, Crossdressing Kink, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-12
Updated: 2017-12-12
Packaged: 2019-02-13 17:41:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12989148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nemirovitch/pseuds/Nemirovitch
Summary: There's something nice in that Santa sack.





	A Stocking Stuffer

**Author's Note:**

  * For [spikesgirl58](https://archiveofourown.org/users/spikesgirl58/gifts).



> Prompts: a very special Christmas stocking, mistletoe and holly.

As he answered the communicator beep, and Illya's voice floated through the cunning electronic device, Napoleon's relief was masked by his usual sense of humor. “Hello, Illya. I trust you are still in one piece?”

“Don't worry, I managed to escape from right under their noses,” Illya's reply was as calm as ever.

Napoleon grinned into the communicator pen. “Did you disguise yourself as a fake mustache?”

Napoleon swore he could hear Illya's eyeroll as he answered. “I'm not even going to dignify that with a reply. I shall see you soon, Napoleon.” 

Napoleon popped the cap back on the communicator and settled down to wait. He hated being separated from his partner, especially on such a hazardous mission, but that was part of the job and something he had to accept. He never tired of seeing Illya's face after such separations, and he knew Illya quietly felt the same about him.

Napoleon checked the time, he should be able to arrive at the rendezvous hotel at the same time as Illya. He checked the rear-view mirror and started the car again.

It wasn't long before Napoleon was settled into an armchair with a good view of the lobby, so he passed the time by people watching. With no obvious THRUSH agents lurking, he paid more attention to the women who came into view, appreciating them all, no matter their age, size, or creed. He thought about their lives, and what brought them here, smiling at the holiday excitement of some, pondering the serious businesslike attitudes of others.

He caught sight of a clock in a mirror and realised that Illya should be arriving right about now. He heard a desk clerk call over some bellhops to be ready for the Swedish ladies' basketball team and turned to watch a group of very impressively tall and athletic young women enter the hotel. Napoleon drank in the sight, knowing that any minute now, Illya would appear at his side wearing a very annoyed expression. He'd probably be treated to an eyeroll in person, too.

Napoleon dutifully glanced over to the glass doorway, then back at the well-developed calf muscles of one of the blonde basketballers, slowly tracking up her red and green striped opaque tights. Another woman stepped away from the desk with a key, to stand by her, as they both stared back at Napoleon.

“Seems I've been caught,” Napoleon thought to himself as he smiled at them.

One of the women tilted her head sideways as though to signal to him, something which the other woman seemed to find highly amusing. Just as Napoleon was thinking that there was something awfully familiar about the first woman, she marched over, pushing her long hair away from her face.

“Napoleon!” Illya hissed at him. “We need to accompany this young lady up in the elevator. We can't arouse suspicion from the hotel staff.”

“I'd be delighted to accompany two such beautiful ladies,” Napoleon grinned from ear to ear as he stood up and walked with them to the elevator.

“By the way, this is Inga. Inga could knock your head off with a basketball with great precision. Inga, this is Napoleon. Napoleon is a very uncouth man,” Illya said.

Inga laughed and replied, “I'm very pleased to meet you, Napoleon. Don't worry, my balls are in the equipment bag.”

Illya shot a warning look at Napoleon, absolutely knowing that he was wondering where Illya was currently storing his equipment. Napoleon stayed silent as the elevator pinged and the door opened, simply glancing down at Illya's knee-length skirt.

Inside, Napoleon gave the floor number to the operator and bit his tongue, admiring Illya's transformation. He made a show of guiding them out at the stop, sweeping his hand out with a charming, “Ladies.”

Inga smiled her thanks as she walked to her room, pausing as Illya patted the small sports bag he was holding. “I shall return your property very shortly. I can't begin to thank you enough.”

Napoleon held his door open and laughed as Illya went inside.

With the door safely shut, Illya began to undress, shaking his hair free from the wig and placing it gently on the dresser. Napoleon settled onto the bed to watch.

“You're enjoying this, aren't you?” Illya accused. 

“Utterly,” said Napoleon.

Illya took off the blouse and started to unbutton the skirt. He paused and lifted one leg onto the bed, running a hand along and up the thigh.

“Still enjoying the show?” Illya's voice was softer this time.

“Very much so,” Napoleon replied, a little breathless.

Illya sat on the bed and gracefully slipped off the low-heeled shoes, then pushed the tights down slightly less gracefully. “They don't have quite the same charm as stockings, do they?”

“It's not the packaging, it's what's inside that counts,” Napoleon replied as he rolled the tights into a ball, bouncing it from hand to hand as Illya took his clothes out from the sports bag.

Illya finished his strip-tease, then reversed the process, slowly putting his own clothes back on. Napoleon was riveted in place as he watched Illya dress, the white shirt fitting snugly against his body, skin disappearing as the buttons closed, with just a peek of flesh through a shirt vent remaining.

Illya smoothed his tie, then suddenly leaned over to kiss Napoleon, who pulled him closer, desire swelling inside him. 

Illya pulled away and started to pick up the bag."I promised to give this back promptly,” he said, then started laughing. “You have lipstick on you.”

“So do you, and eye makeup,” Napoleon pushed him into the bathroom and wet a washcloth, laughing all the way. ”You look amazing, though.”

Illya regarded himself in the mirror as he washed his face. “Yes. It's my wonderful bone structure.”

“If you ever dress up like this again, I'll have a wonderful bone structure for you,” Napoleon said as he stood behind Illya and kissed his neck.

“Yes, I can feel it already,” Illya rolled his eyes and left to return Inga's bag. “When I come back, I may or may not fill you in on the details of my thrilling adventure.”

“I can't wait,” Napoleon said to the mirror.

~~~~@~~~~@~~~~@~~~~ 3 months later ~~~~@~~~~@~~~~@~~~~

After a difficult solo mission for Napoleon, he was relieved to hear Illya's voice over the communicator, even if his partner didn't seem to have missed him.

“Well, if you do somehow manage to arrive home in one piece, I shall be delivering your Christmas present. I'll have it ready once you get there,” Illya said offhandedly.

“Well don't sound too enthused about it, Illya,” Napoleon said. “I might even like what you got me.”

“I'm sure you will. See you soon, Napoleon,” there was a hint of amusement in Illya's voice as he signed off.

Napoleon laughed quietly to himself as he replied to dead air. “I cant wait.”

~~~~@~~~~@~~~~@~~~~ 

'Aren't you going to open your Christmas present, then?” Illya asked, his deadpan expression giving nothing away.

Napoleon stood in the doorway trying to process the delightful sight before his eyes. “Let me have a moment to savor the image,” he finally managed to stammer out, before climbing on the bed next to Illya.

Lying on his side, Illya adjusted his position slightly, adapting to the weight of Napoleon's body next to him. He propped his head up on one arm and hitched one leg up slightly. Napoleon decided that this was where he'd like to start and slid his hand along it, a slight hissing sound from the stocking fabric accompanying his path. He slowly traced the outline of the small pattern of red and green holly embroidered along the leg.

“You know, not many people can pull off novelty clothing, but it really suits you,” Napoleon laughed as he continued his journey down Illya's leg. He delighted in the warmth and feel of Illya's calf muscles, pausing to feel the ankle strap of Illya's stiletto heels.

“Have you dared to walk around in these killer heels?” Napoleon asked as he caressed Illya's ankle.

“A little. It just takes practise,” Illya replied, turning his ankle so the black leather caught the light.

“Where did you find shoes this size, anyway?” Napoleon asked as he kissed along Illya's ankle.

“Wanda has some friends down in Hell's Kitchen. I'm sure they could find a pair for you, if you wish?” Illya chuckled softly.

Napoleon stopped kissing for a moment. “I'll consider it, though I'm sure I couldn't pull it off as well as you do.”

He then gently pushed Illya back before rolling on top of him. Illya hitched his leg up, resting the back of his knee of Napoleon's shoulder as he planted kisses along Napoleon's neck.

Resting on one arm, Napoleon let his other hand wander over Illya's black, silky robe, tracing along each snowflake pattern along the shoulder and down the front of his chest. 

“I expected you to have ripped this off me by now and ravished me already,” Illya's whisper was hoarse with desire.

“Not a chance, there's some types of wrapping paper you don't rush,” Napoleon retorted, his fingers returning to their explorations. He pouted as he felt something underneath the robe, and frowned in puzzlement. Slowly he worked at the bow of the silk belt and pushed the top of the robe apart slightly, grinning as he recognized the body strap that Illya added to stop his gun holster flapping about. Napoleon felt along the slender black leather strap as it angled across Illya's chest, pausing to roll a thumb over Illya's nipple.

“Every time I get a peek of that strap through the vent in your shirt, it does something to me,” Napoleon said into Illya's chest as he kissed around the nipple.

Illya let out a slight chuckle. “I didn't find a brassiere that felt comfortable, so this is my compromise.”

“You are a demented genius, Illya,” Napoleon offered, starting on the other nipple.

“I shall take that as the compliment intended,” Illya laughed as he found a longer strand of Napoleon's hair and ran a finger through it. “At the rate you're going, it will be next Christmas before you finish unwrapping me.”

Napoleon slowly started to push the robe apart below the belt, exposing the top of one stocking. “You'll be a birthday present to me, too.”

“Only one present for both occasions, Napoleon?” Illya asked. “Will you want me wrapped up again?”

“Good idea,” Napoleon pulled the belt away and tied Illya's wrists together. 

Illya watched with satisfaction as he rested his hands on his chest. “Nice knot. Very pleasing geometry.”

“Just wait for what else I'll be going to tie in a knot,” Napoleon smiled like a wolf as he fully pushed aside the robe to check out the matching garter belt and knickers Illya was wearing. “I hope you're not too cold under all those snowflakes.”

“You should warm me up,” Illya smiled back.

The feeling of a cock under a pair of ladies' undergarment was a new experience for Napoleon and he took his time admiring the bulge and how it felt under the smooth fabric. Judging from Illya's closed eyes and soft moaning, he was feeling the same way. Napoleon placed his mouth over Illya's cock and got an excited groan in reply. He relished the taste of the fabric, and the tactile joy of the sensation, but wanted Illya in all his glory.

Separating a stocking from a garter belt was always an enjoying piece of engineering puzzle, and Napoleon bit his lip with delight as he slid the connector out of its hole to free the stocking, doing the same with the other leg. He rested his hands inside the knickers for a moment, then pulled it down, Illya lifting his hips slightly to help him. 

Another rearranging of legs and Illya was free of the underwear. Napoleon tapped his chin as he looked down, then decided to reattach the stockings, adjusting the straps so they framed Illya's lower torso and groin. He moved a hand under the garter belt and around under Illya's back, pulling him closer as Illya hooked his leg over Napoleon's shoulder again.

Illya rubbed himself against Napoleon's suit pants, foiled by the layers of clothing. He hissed with frustration as Napoleon looked down at him, mocking amusement in his eyes.

“Feels like you're starting to get a yule log in the fireplace, Illya,” Napoleon laughed.

Illya kept rubbing off on Napoleon. “Let's light a fire, then. Hurry up and kiss me.”

“Ah, a kiss under the mistletoe. Wait. Did I put some up yet?” Napoleon looked up.

Illya nodded. “Behind you a bit.”

Napoleon twisted around and looked up at the ceiling. A sprig of mistletoe was hanging from the light fitting halfway over the bed. He tracked a path downwards and nodded. “Well, in that case, I better kiss you under the mistletoe.”

He moved away from Illya and rearranged himself so that his head was closer to Illya's cock, then took it in his mouth. Illya drew in his breath sharply, shivering slightly as Napoleon's tongue started working him.

Illya found Napoleon's crotch was within handy reach, so he unzipped his pants and reached inside to take out his cock, his bound wrists making it a little difficult to maneuver, but not impossible. He struggled to speak during Napoleon's passionate sucking, but managed to quip, “I've found a little candy cane.”

“Then get licking, it might get bigger,” came the reply in between gasps.

“Merry Christmas, Napoleon,” Illya said as he devoured Napoleon's cock.


End file.
